How are you?
I’m
imagining
you again
November
bound and
cursing
fog.
Fumbling -
two hundred and six
slacking bones
lazy TV eyed
& morning blurred.
Sleepwalking
onto winter.
Am I right?
It’s cold,
you know.
I’m
imagining
you again
November
bound and
cursing
fog.
Fumbling -
two hundred and six
slacking bones
lazy TV eyed
& morning blurred.
Sleepwalking
onto winter.
Am I right?
It’s cold,
you know.